Subject: I'm still here.
Thursday, April 9, 2009 12:28 AM
that subject line begs the question- where else would I be?
I'm in the phase of grief where its the little things that are killing me. the things I did before I was pregnant, that I still have to do now. Pay the bills, look friendly at work, act like I'm listening when people are talking, feed the dog, etc, the list goes on. Why do these little things hurt so? because when your baby dies, you can't imagine anything ever being the same, and life can't possible go on. but it does. without your baby. and you have to participate in all these mundane rituals that life requires of you, even though you should be able to say, no, stop! my life has ended, how come the world didn't stop with me.
so back to the subject line. I guess if I had a choice, I wouldn't be here. I'd be anywhere but here.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
21 Days
I went to visit your grave yesterday, JoSuelynn. It was 3 weeks to the day since you were born. It’s still so fucking fresh at times, it takes my breath away. Its hard to think of, the fact that you aren’t here. I had no inkling that I might not get to hold you in my arms at this point.
I worried and fretted over things before you arrived, like how was I gonna breastfeed and return to work? I knew that I was supposed to go back to work when you were 6 weeks old, and I worried about the scheduling, and I worried that you would be entering a growth spurt and need me, and I worried about whether you’d be sleeping through the night by then, and I hoped that our bf relationship would go smoothly, and I hoped that while I worked, that you’d mostly sleep while I was gone, and that I wouldn’t have to pump at work, and that we could avoid you bottle feeding as much as possible.
I so enjoyed sending out the “no baby yet” emails, and I had hoped to continue the emails after you were born with your milestones. Or better yet, be so busy being your mama that I didn’t have time to send them out. I’d take that guilt any day over the guilt I have now.
I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Wondering what is going to happen to me next. Who am I going to lose now? This abject hurt and loss I feel only seems to intensify, the more I realize how much I have lost. No first Christmas, no smiles, no kisses, no hugs, no coloring on the wall, no wondering if you’ll love barbies like your Aunt Sue did, or if you’ll be a wicked little tomboy, no wondering if you would have loved the noise and speed of those kiddie minibikes, would you have enjoyed riding passenger on a motorcycle, would you be a goth-loving teenager, or a cheerleader, or something in between or a total dork like I was? What else does god want to take away from me? Who else?
I worry so much that you were hurting in there. I read the prelim autopsy report, and I see the injuries listed from the cord strangulation. Oh, please I hope it was quick. I’m completely distraught when I think of the pain and fear you must have suffered- I wish I could have taken it from you. If I could have traded places, I would have, baby girl. I would have gladly died for you. If only I could have. I miss you, but I think this would be a better place with you in it, rather than me. I just spread sadness outwards from me. I told my therapist that I live in the “house of sad”, and that I’m bringing my family down into this black place with me. Her eyes welled up with tears, but she didn’t correct me, as everyone else does. It’s such a relief to be able to talk freely about you to someone, someone who doesn’t try to fix me.
I love you so much. This life is just miserable without you.
December 12, 2008
I worried and fretted over things before you arrived, like how was I gonna breastfeed and return to work? I knew that I was supposed to go back to work when you were 6 weeks old, and I worried about the scheduling, and I worried that you would be entering a growth spurt and need me, and I worried about whether you’d be sleeping through the night by then, and I hoped that our bf relationship would go smoothly, and I hoped that while I worked, that you’d mostly sleep while I was gone, and that I wouldn’t have to pump at work, and that we could avoid you bottle feeding as much as possible.
I so enjoyed sending out the “no baby yet” emails, and I had hoped to continue the emails after you were born with your milestones. Or better yet, be so busy being your mama that I didn’t have time to send them out. I’d take that guilt any day over the guilt I have now.
I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Wondering what is going to happen to me next. Who am I going to lose now? This abject hurt and loss I feel only seems to intensify, the more I realize how much I have lost. No first Christmas, no smiles, no kisses, no hugs, no coloring on the wall, no wondering if you’ll love barbies like your Aunt Sue did, or if you’ll be a wicked little tomboy, no wondering if you would have loved the noise and speed of those kiddie minibikes, would you have enjoyed riding passenger on a motorcycle, would you be a goth-loving teenager, or a cheerleader, or something in between or a total dork like I was? What else does god want to take away from me? Who else?
I worry so much that you were hurting in there. I read the prelim autopsy report, and I see the injuries listed from the cord strangulation. Oh, please I hope it was quick. I’m completely distraught when I think of the pain and fear you must have suffered- I wish I could have taken it from you. If I could have traded places, I would have, baby girl. I would have gladly died for you. If only I could have. I miss you, but I think this would be a better place with you in it, rather than me. I just spread sadness outwards from me. I told my therapist that I live in the “house of sad”, and that I’m bringing my family down into this black place with me. Her eyes welled up with tears, but she didn’t correct me, as everyone else does. It’s such a relief to be able to talk freely about you to someone, someone who doesn’t try to fix me.
I love you so much. This life is just miserable without you.
December 12, 2008
7 days
It’s been a week since I lost you, JJ. It feels like a matter of hours. The week just blew on by, and the huge gaping hole where my heart used to be has yet to form any softer edges, and nothing has scabbed over. I’m still just bleeding and bleeding and losing blood from the hole in my heart like the day I gave birth to you, and I’m just biding my time until I die from blood loss or I stop bleeding. I have no preference for either outcome. I could just as happily join you in the ground in Fallon, or stay here unhappily in this dreary life, waiting out my time to be with you again. The apathy feels like a betrayal of your memory.
My body is so weak and frail- I feel like the physical illness I’m suffering is a mirror for the illness my soul is suffering. My body will get better before my soul, I know. But I sit here, wearing adult diapers, because my pneumonia causes me to cough so hard I lose control of my bladder, and the three antibiotics I am on cause me to lose control of my bowels, my head aches, my breasts are hard and heavy and hot, and if I miss my dose of Advil, my fever spikes right on up. At least I quit vomiting two days ago. I wonder if this is similar to the upheaval and pain you must have felt during that excruciatingly long labor I went through a week ago. Everytime I see fecal matter in my Depends, or manage to make it to the toilet in time, I remember the meconium I leaked during the very end of the labor here at home. I think how scary it must have been for you, and I ache at the thought that I never got to comfort you after labor- you had already died by the time you were born. I think the time has blown by because the day after I had you, I was released from the hospital. I immediately went with your father to the funeral home to make arrangements, and then home to eat and sleep. By 11 pm that evening, I was being transported to another hospital by EMS for a 2 day stay- a uterine infection had set in. I just struggled to tell everyone around me what I needed help doing, while I felt guilty because these people needed to rest and grieve, too, but getting you buried in honor mattered more. I was so afraid on Sunday morning when Dr. H said that she’d discharge me by Monday morning- your funeral was on Monday! Then she changed it and said she’d let me go that evening- I ended up not getting home from the hospital until midnight. I was running on fumes by this point, and the cough had set in.
My body is so weak and frail- I feel like the physical illness I’m suffering is a mirror for the illness my soul is suffering. My body will get better before my soul, I know. But I sit here, wearing adult diapers, because my pneumonia causes me to cough so hard I lose control of my bladder, and the three antibiotics I am on cause me to lose control of my bowels, my head aches, my breasts are hard and heavy and hot, and if I miss my dose of Advil, my fever spikes right on up. At least I quit vomiting two days ago. I wonder if this is similar to the upheaval and pain you must have felt during that excruciatingly long labor I went through a week ago. Everytime I see fecal matter in my Depends, or manage to make it to the toilet in time, I remember the meconium I leaked during the very end of the labor here at home. I think how scary it must have been for you, and I ache at the thought that I never got to comfort you after labor- you had already died by the time you were born. I think the time has blown by because the day after I had you, I was released from the hospital. I immediately went with your father to the funeral home to make arrangements, and then home to eat and sleep. By 11 pm that evening, I was being transported to another hospital by EMS for a 2 day stay- a uterine infection had set in. I just struggled to tell everyone around me what I needed help doing, while I felt guilty because these people needed to rest and grieve, too, but getting you buried in honor mattered more. I was so afraid on Sunday morning when Dr. H said that she’d discharge me by Monday morning- your funeral was on Monday! Then she changed it and said she’d let me go that evening- I ended up not getting home from the hospital until midnight. I was running on fumes by this point, and the cough had set in.
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